


i'm useless now

by InLust



Series: the case of roommates [2]
Category: Miss Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Basically married, Cuddling, Domesticity, F/F, Late Nights, Nightmares, PTSD, Roommates, Unresolved Romantic Tension, canon compliant post s1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 10:58:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15532746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InLust/pseuds/InLust
Summary: Wato can’t sleep and just wants to be near Sherlock but her presence "is bothersome" to Sherlock





	i'm useless now

**Author's Note:**

> Started as a cheesy ploy for cuddling but ended up being subtext with unresolved romantic tension. Also Sherlock is basically my child that cannot deal with her emotions like a normal human being

Wato wakes up in a cold sweat again. 

Her eyes shoot open and she’s staring at the ceiling, blinking until her eyes adjust to the darkness. She doesn’t move, clutching the blanket to her chest; the sensation is paralyzing. All of her nerve endings fire signals across the synapses that she can feel it all over her, but she can’t move. 

In. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 

Out. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1. 

She counts her breathing until it becomes innate to her again. 

The LED clock reads 3:42 AM and she lets out a quiet sigh. She has to be up for the clinic soon and she can’t go dead on her feet. 

The adrenaline doesn’t stop coursing through her veins even though she knows the rush will stop soon enough. Then she’ll be able to go back to sleep. 

Except she can’t. 

Because when she closes her eyes, she dreams about falling. She dreams about Sherlock’s screams to her. The brief moment she feels Sherlock’s cool hands around hers before she pulls away. Wato reaches, _always_ , she _always_ reaches for Sherlock’s hands but she’s falling backwards over the edge, watching Sherlock scream for her. 

Wato clutches the blanket up to her chin. It doesn’t bring her comfort though. The hollow sensation in her stomach remains like she’s still falling. 

When she tries to close her eyes, the only thing she sees is Sherlock. 

Sherlock screaming her name. She says that emotions impede logical thinking, but Wato can only see the worry and fear and anguish on her face. 

“Shit,” Wato curses as she shoots up from her bed. 

Sherlock is the only thing on her mind. And it’s obvious that she can’t sleep until---

Wato hops out of bed, forgoing her slippers to go downstairs. She has to know. She has to see for herself. 

There’s a light from under the door of Sherlock’s room. Her racing heart starts to slow as she gently pushes the door open. 

There she is. 

Wato releases the breath she didn’t know she was holding. The air rushes into her, relieving her of the stress.

Sherlock sits, fingers pressed against each other, eyes focused on the empty space in front of her. 

For a brief moment, Wato thinks that Sherlock hasn’t moved since she went to bed, but she sees a few chocolate wrappers open on the small table in front of her. The papers of their current case are scattered on the table, on the stack of books next to Sherlock, and on Wato’s chair. 

Wato bites her lip. Her heart stops racing and beats normally once more. 

Instead of calling for Sherlock, breaking her from her deep thought, Wato creeps into the room quietly. She wants to be nearby because her room is too far from Sherlock in that moment. And she wants to get sleep knowing that Sherlock is really there. 

Wato makes her way as carefully as she can towards the couch until she feels a hand grab her wrist quickly. She looks at Sherlock’s hand gripping her wrist firmly. 

“What’re you doing here?” Sherlock slowly asks. 

Wato swallows as she slips out of Sherlock’s grasp slowly. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Sherlock sits back in her chair, looking up at Wato. Observing her. Wato feels warm under the stare. “Go back to sleep,” she waves off. “You are exhausted. Even if you can’t sleep, you won’t be useful helping me solve this case.”

Wato pouts. “Why do you say such things?” she mumbles without any ire. 

Sherlock narrows her eyes. “Can you tell me why Tanaka ended up on that dock when she had no reason to be?” 

Wato winces because she doesn’t really have an answer. At least for a moment. She thinks about Tanaka at the dock. She thinks of Tanaka dressed as if she got off of work with a simple charm since high school around her wrist and a necklace with a ring too big for her. She thinks about Tanaka staring out into the water; the beautiful sunset in the horizon. 

Wato takes a small breath. “Maybe she just wanted to be there,” she answers with small resignation. “Somewhere she found beautiful and safe.” She looks at Sherlock, staring at her dark eyes that always seem to twinkle in the right angle. It looks different at this hour because Wato can spy the quiet calm when Sherlock gets time to focus by herself. 

Sherlock stands up from her seat, still observing Wato. “That’s irrational.”

Wato sighs with a smile on her face. If anything, she finds Sherlock’s antics more endearing because she’s there and she’s unapologetically herself. “I must be useless. It is 4am.” She resigns and moves to lie down on the couch. 

Sherlock follows her curiously. “The couch is uncomfortable. Go to sleep in your bed.” She nudges Wato’s shoulder. 

“Lies,” Wato returns, reaching for the throw. “It’s fine. I want to sleep here.”

“Why?”

“Because-” _I want you nearby._ Wato feels her heart skip a beat and she doesn’t know what to say because Sherlock is just going to say she’s being emotional and irrational. She just feels so tired but she can’t sleep unless she knows Sherlock is there. 

“You had a nightmare.” 

Wato snaps her attention up to Sherlock. Of course. She doesn’t let on though, looking away. “No, I didn’t,” she lies. 

Sherlock bends over until her face is inches from Wato’s, eyes searching hers carefully. Wato gasps and sits up straight to give them space. 

“Don’t do that so suddenly,” Wato chastises. 

“You’re lying.”

Wato fakes a yawn, arms coming up to stretch quickly to make Sherlock move out of her personal space. “I’m suddenly very tired, I’m going to sleep.” But Sherlock doesn’t move. 

“If you are having nightmares because PTSD, you should tell me,” Sherlock informs as if it’s the easiest thing for Wato to do. “We can approach the problem rationally so that you can move past your PTSD and perform optimally.”

Wato sighs. “Sherlock, it doesn’t work like that.”

“Of course it does. Try me, tell me what your nightmares are of,” Sherlock demands as if it isn’t a big deal. 

“No,” Wato settles the throw over her and relaxes onto the couch. “I don’t want to.”

“Eh?” Sherlock quirks her head to the side. “You don’t make any sense. Tell me. You’ve already interrupted my concentration.”

“No,” Wato turns away from Sherlock so she can sleep. “Go back to your case.”

Instead of hearing receding footsteps like she wants, she feels a weight at her legs and suddenly she’s being pulled to sit up.

“What, Sherlock?” Wato whines. She doesn’t want to talk about her problems. They’re her problems. They just happen to involve Sherlock and she’s already doing her best to put herself at ease. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“No, I want to know. I don’t understand what is going on,” Sherlock insists, brows furrowed. “You need to explain it to me.” 

Wato sighs. “I’m having emotions. You never want to hear about that.”

Sherlock scrunches up her nose in distaste. “You may be right about that, but that is clearly what I don’t understand. You are bothered by something that is causing you nightmares and you are here in the middle of the night in my room when you have a perfectly comfortable bed in your own.” She lets out a sigh of frustration. “This is bothersome.” 

“It is late Sherlock,” Wato points out. “You need your rest too.” Wato is getting tired. Or maybe it’s the comfort of knowing Sherlock is there. She feels at ease and she wants to rest her weary limbs. She drops her head back onto the couch, facing away from Sherlock.

Sherlock huffs and pushes against Wato’s back. “Move, move,” she urges. 

Wato tries to look back, “What? What’re you doing?” but she’s pushed further into the couch. 

Sherlock lies down behind Wato, curling up behind her. No doubt precariously because the couch isn’t all that big. She throws her an arm around Wato and shoves the other underneath Wato until she actually holds Wato against her chest. 

“What’re you doing?” Wato carefully asks, feeling warm instantly. She doesn’t dare look back, shocked at the fact that Sherlock is actually holding her. When she wanted Sherlock nearby she didn’t mean this close. It feels warm though, right to her core. 

“You’ve made me useless for the rest of the night,” Sherlock grumbles into the back of Wato’s neck. “I can’t concentrate anymore.” 

Wato heats up at Sherlock’s breath against her neck. She involuntarily shivers. “Sherlock…”

“Shh,” Sherlock quickly snaps. “I want to sleep and not be---like this.”

_ LIke this?  _

Wato glances back or at least tries to but Sherlock’s arms wrap around Wato firmly and she buries her face into the back of Wato’s neck. Wato momentarily freezes at Sherlock’s lips pressed against the back of her neck. She unconsciously reaches for Sherlock’s hands to hold. 

Sherlock doesn’t fight it, letting Wato’s fingers intertwine with hers.

_Mm, Sherlock is here._ Wato reminds herself. She relaxes into Sherlock’s arms and falls asleep, feeling Sherlock’s warmth enshroud her. _Sherlock is here._


End file.
